


Coming Home to Roost

by SIM (Evaine)



Series: Life Goes On [1]
Category: Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-05-09
Updated: 2009-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaine/pseuds/SIM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Coming Home to Roost" is the sequel to "C'est La Vie".  It's a WIP... been in progress a LONG time, but hopefully I will find the urge to get back to it one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

  
**Prologue**   


Mike Robichaud gave the counter one final swipe with his dishtowel and waved a good-natured goodbye to his final lunch hour customer. Peace reigned in the diner at least for a short while. Once school let out for the afternoon, the place would be filled with teenagers. One thing hadn’t changed in all the years he’d owned and run Wimpy’s Diner here in Sleepyside; the kids loved his burgers and fries.

Mike poured himself a steaming cup of coffee and headed for his favorite perch on a well-worn stool at the end of the counter. Lighting a cigarette, he pulled a copy of the morning’s newspaper from the small pile he kept for his customers’ perusal and turned to the sports page. With a deep sigh, he noted that none of his favorite teams had been victorious the night before and was thankful that he had only wagered a ten-spot on each of them.

“Next time,” he promised himself aloud as he flipped the pages back to the news section. “Well, look at that!” He bent slightly to study the picture that took up half the front page of the paper. “The place is looking good.” He began to read the story on the revitalization of the Glen Road Inn that went along with the picture, marvelling at the transformation that had taken place in so short a time. Of course, given who the new owners were, it was only to be expected.

The bell over the door to the diner tinkled merrily, signalling the arrival of a customer. Mike looked up with a welcoming grin.

“Afternoon,” he greeted, getting to his feet. “What can I get you?”

“Coffee.” The new arrival smiled in return. “A good old cup of American coffee.” There was the hint of an accent in his voice that Mike could not place. “And pie. Have you got some fresh pie?” The man straddled a stool at the counter and gave him a grin that suddenly seemed very familiar.

“I’ve always got fresh pie,” Mike chuckled. “Blueberry okay?” He poured out a cup of coffee and placed it in front of his customer.

“My favorite.”

His back to the counter Mike took a quick look at the man in the mirror that hung in the traditional place over his workspace. Slicing the pie, he was certain that he knew this fellow from somewhere.

He was an older man, late fifties to early sixties, as attested to by the thick head of hair that was much more grey than its original sandy colour and the deep laugh lines around his blue eyes. There was something about the shape of his face, the openness of his grin, the timbre of his voice, something that was darned familiar.

“Ah, this is what I’ve been dreaming of!” A look of total bliss came over the man’s features as he took his first bite of the blueberry pie. A second forkful quickly disappeared in the same fashion with the same result.

Mike grinned, pleased.

“Just get into town?” he asked, leaning his hip against the counter.

“I’ve just arrived back in the country, to tell the truth,” the man replied, sipping appreciatively at his coffee. “You just cannot get coffee like this over in England.”

“Were you over there long?”

“It’s been my home for almost twenty years.” Another healthy morsel of blueberry pie vanished.

The door chimed again, this time announcing the arrival of two men chatting quietly together. They nodded to Mike and settled in one of the booths near the door.

“Coffee, gentlemen?” Mike asked, and the taller of the two nodded. “Must be my day for strangers,” he observed to the man at the counter as he poured two more cups of coffee to take to the new arrivals. “When all is said and done, this is still a small town, and it’s not often that I see someone I don’t know in here, especially at this time of day.” He held up the coffee pot, his eyebrows raised, and the man nodded.

“You make a good cup of joe,” he observed with another of those familiar smiles.

“So, what do you do over in England, if you don’t mind my asking?” Mike returned to his spot behind the counter.

“I’m a university professor. Medieval Literature.” The man replied.

“No kidding? Like King Arthur and Shakespeare and all that?” Mike leaned on the countertop. “I never got past high school, but I always did enjoy those stories.” He grinned, almost shyly.

“Amongst other things,” the man replied easily. “I guess I always did enjoy those stories too. I enjoyed them so much that I made them the focus of my life as it turns out. Maybe not the best plan.” A shadow flitted across his features, and his eyes darkened as he sipped thoughtfully at his coffee.

“So what brings you back to the U.S. now?” Mike continued after a moment.

“Family celebrations for the most part. And a desire for home.” The man gave a wistful smile. “And some good coffee and pie.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change. It was bloody good coffee and pie.” He winked.

“Why thanks, Mr… er … Professor…” Mike’s voice trailed off as the man rose to leave. _Why did he seem so darned familiar?_

“Johnson. Martin Johnson.” He raised a hand and gave the diner owner a mock tip of an imaginary hat. “Cheers.” He turned and headed out the door. The bells tinkled, and Mike began to chuckle.

“Well, I’ll be! Helen Belden’s big brother has come home.”


	2. Meetings and Arrivals

  
Margery Trask closed her agenda with a small sigh and raised her eyes to meet those of the man on the other side of the desk. Was she up to this new challenge? Did she have the energy? Was she too old?

“Marge, I know this seems to have come out of the blue, but I need someone I know and can trust implicitly from the get-go. I’m in the proverbial bind.” He shook his head and scrubbed at his tired green eyes. “This has been the week from hell.”

“You look like you haven’t slept for the past three days,” she observed keenly, and he shrugged sheepishly.

“Guilty as charged,”

“That’s not good.” She frowned. “I suppose you’ve been taking over Mr. Tolliver’s classes on top of everything else?”

“Well, someone had to!” Jim Frayne leaned back in his chair, running both hands through his already-rumpled red hair. “Marge, it was a helluva blow when Doug had his stroke last month, both for the school and for me. He’s a good friend, and so is Meghan. I’m devastated for them. I just didn’t need Tolliver handing in his notice the first week of the new school year on top of that!” The loss of three of the most important members of the Ten Acres Academy staff had been a huge blow to the school. He moved forward to place his elbows on his desk. “Marge, I have the utmost confidence in you. You’ve done wonders the past few weeks tutoring the new boy. You’re as good a math teacher as Tolliver, if not better. Please say you’ll help me out.” He gave her a wheedling grin so reminiscent of the boy she’d first met all those years ago in the trailer park that she made her mind up suddenly and firmly.

“I’ll do it, Jim,” she said. “I’ll take over Tolliver’s classes, at least until you can find someone to replace the Samuels. I’ll even take over some of Meghan’s admin duties, or Doug’s classes with the little ones, if it will help.” She tapped her agenda with a slender finger. “Your mother is planning for a quiet winter after the wedding and the holidays, and your father is finally slowing down a little. So, I won’t have as many duties around the estate for the next while.”

“I did speak to Dad before talking to you,” he said. “I didn’t want him to think I was stealing his strong right arm.”

“Oh, I’m hardly that, Jim!” Marge laughed, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

“Mother and Dad count on you to keep their lives running smoothly. Mother, especially, would be lost without you, and you know it!” He grinned. “I would too. You’re saving my tail here, Marge.”  
“We’re not out of the woods yet, though,” she warned him. _When had it become **we** instead of you?_ “Have you anyone in mind that could lend us a hand for the short term, until you can find someone to fill the positions permanently?”

“Mart said he’d come and give us a hand with the senior english classes and take over Tolliver’s phys ed duties.” His face relaxed into relieved lines. “And young Bob has agreed to come and take over the junior dormitory for as long as needs be.”

“Bobby?” Marge was surprised. “Our Bobby? Bobby Belden?” The idea of the youngest Belden in charge of the rowdy group of boys that comprised the junior contingent of Ten Acres was one that would never have crossed her mind.

“Our Bobby.” Jim nodded with a grin. “Now that he has that brand new Master’s degree under his belt, he’s looking for a way to get some hands-on experience. He was intending to take some time off before looking for an internship,” he explained. “But when he heard about the situation here, he offered to help out, and I was very thankful to accept.”

“I seem to have a mental block where he’s concerned,” Marge chuckled. “I know he’s twenty-four and a grown man, but I still think of him as a grubby six-year-old with a fistful of plastic cowboys and Indians, unless he’s standing right in front of me.” She slipped her agenda into her tote bag and stood up. “I do have to get back to the Manor House now, however. Your mother is redecorating the foyer in honour of the wedding and the decorator is coming this afternoon.”

“Marge, I can’t tell you enough how relieved I am that you’ve agreed to help out. It’s a real weight off my mind.” Jim leaned back in his chair and stretched his long frame, before remembering his manners and getting to his feet. “Now maybe I can give Trixie the attention she deserves when she gets here. Finally.” His happy grin threatened to split his face in two.

“It’s been a long eighteen months for the both of you, hasn’t it?” Marge shrugged her cardigan over her shoulders. “A couple of weeks here and a couple of weeks there. Not the easiest way to cement a relationship.” She smiled fondly at him.

“When have Trix and I ever done anything the easy way?” Jim’s green eyes twinkled. “All I know is, she’s coming home today, and she’s coming home to stay.”

“And that, Headmaster Frayne, is the best news of all.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Sweetness, you’re sure you don’t have a problem with me helping out at Ten Acres?” Mart placed a steaming cup of tea in front of his wife before taking his own seat across from her in the small breakfast nook they preferred to the large kitchen table.

“Of course not.” She smiled her thanks. “Jim needs help, you just sent the final draft of your book off to the publishers… the timing seems to be perfect to me.”

“That’s what you say, but with the christening and everything, maybe I’m not pulling my own weight?” His sandy eyebrows knitted together over his troubled blue eyes.

“As long as you can find time to help me with the thank-you notes, I promise I won’t complain.” She reached out to take his hand. “I can deal with everything but that. Do you realise that we got three more christening mugs delivered today? All from Hollywood ‘acquaintances’.” She rolled her violet eyes expressively. “I so don’t miss that scene!”

“How many does that make? Eight? Nine?” Mart gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “And every one of them, but one, from people you hardly know.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “I’ll do all the thank-you notes,” he promised.

“No, you won’t, you silly thing! There’ll be way too many, and most of them from people you’ve never met!” Diana’s clear laugh filled the room. “We’ll do them together, in front of the fireplace, with a bottle of wine, and we’ll make it an event.” She arched an eyebrow suggestively, and he grinned. Bottles of wine in front of the fireplace had been non-existent for them for what seemed a very long time.

“Now that’s a plan I can definitely support.” He gave her hand another quick kiss.

“Well, some say that four months is early to wean a baby, but I really think it was time. At any rate, it doesn’t seem to have done Lily any harm at all. Brian checked her out this morning and says she’s doing superbly. Growing like a weed.” She chuckled. “He said she must have inherited her father’s appetite.”

“He would!” Mart snorted.

“Anyway, there’s not much left to do for the christening, except have it,” she continued. “Everything’s been planned, ordered, rented… you name it; it’s been taken care of.” She leaned forward slightly, a conspiratorial light in her eyes. “I used most of Margery’s contacts,” she admitted.

“What would we do without her?” Mart asked with a fond smile. “How many tight spots has she helped us out of over the years? The woman is a marvel.” His gaze took on a faraway look. “Did I ever tell you that she was the one I sent my first manuscript to, before sending it off to all the publishers?”

“No, you never did.”

“Well, she was the first person I told about wanting to leave Sleepyside and go out and ‘discover’ the world. She encouraged me to explore my talent if I so chose and made me actually believe I could do it. Moms and Dad were supportive, but I don’t think they really understood what was driving me. Marge did.” He smiled wistfully. “She told me I was a good writer, and I believed her.”

“Well, she was right, wasn’t she?” Diana’s eyes were warm and filled with love for him. “Hey, I think there’s some of last night’s lemon pie left. Shall we indulge in an afternoon snack?”

“Definitely!” He grinned. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He watched her bustle about the large, airy kitchen, still amazed by the fact that Diana Lynch had chosen to spend her life with him. This gorgeous woman, one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, had given it all up to return with him to Sleepyside as his wife and the mother of his child. Dressed in jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt, her long, dark hair twisted up and pinned with a bright purple hair clamp, her feet bare on the linoleum, she still managed to look as glamorous as her publicity stills. And she was even more beautiful inside. He was a very lucky man, and thankfully, he knew it.

“Sweetness, have I told you today that I love you?” He looked up at her as she set a large piece of pie in front of him, his gaze travelling over her features. Before she could move to reclaim her own chair, he wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her to him.

“Maybe three or four times.” She set the plate that held her considerably smaller piece of pie on the table. “But I never get tired of hearing it.” She gave him the smile meant only for him and laid a hand on either side of his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying the coolness of her fingers on his skin.

“Diana, sometimes I’m so happy it scares me,” he admitted. “I guess I can’t think of anything I’ve ever done to deserve this kind of happiness. I keep waiting for someone or something to take it away from me.” He opened his eyes again, just as she bent to kiss his lips softly.

“Let them try,” she murmured against his mouth and deepened the kiss, much to his delight. The pie was forgotten as she melted into his lap, and he lost himself in the pleasures of holding and caressing her. His hand reached up to free her long hair from its confining clasp to cascade down her back in full, silky waves.

 _“Drat!”_ A sudden, lusty wailing burst forth from the baby monitor on the counter, and Mart began to chuckle at his wife’s resigned sigh.

“Her timing is impeccable,” he observed.

“I can see that your daughter and I need to have a serious talk.” Diana reluctantly released herself from his embrace, but not before giving him another hard, fast kiss.

“I’m coming, Lily!” she called out. “We’ll continue this discussion later, Mr. Belden.” Her eyebrow arched wickedly.

“We definitely will,” he agreed. She hurried from the kitchen, and he glanced down at the generous serving of pie in front of him. It was no substitute for the pleasure he had held in his arms, but he had always found some sort of joy in food. He took a large forkful and popped it in his mouth, a wry grin creasing his cheeks.

“Lily Joelle Belden,” he heard his wife’s fondly scolding voice over the baby monitor as the wailing suddenly stopped. “This plan of yours to be an only child is not going to work forever, young lady.” Little cooing sounds followed her words, and he smiled contentedly.

“All this and pie too.” _Could a man possibly be any happier?_

~*~*~*~*~*~

Casey Belden leaned against the bumper of her mother’s car and sighed impatiently. It seemed hours had passed since her mother had disappeared inside, but an impatient glance at her watch told her it had only been fifteen minutes. She wuffled up her bangs with another long-suffering sigh.

Every time they came to Ten Acres for “just a minute or two”, it always ended up being many times longer than that. Especially recently. She assumed it had something to do with Uncle Jim marrying Auntie Trix. That seemed to be a popular subject of conversation any time there were Wheelers and Beldens in the same room. Or it could be about those teachers that Mom and Daddy had been talking about last night. The one that got sick and his wife, or the one that had so suddenly quit. Of course, it could just as easily be about her new little cousin’s christening or Mom’s new business. But did it always have to take so long!

“Why didn’t I bring my book?” she moaned aloud, kicking at a convenient pebble in frustration. “This sucks!”

“Is something wrong?”

Startled, Casey spun about. A boy stood beside the car, giving her a curious, yet friendly, look. He looked to be a year or two older than her own age of eleven and judging from the baseball cap on his head, he was a student of Ten Acres.

“No, I was just talking to myself,” she told him, a little embarrassed at being caught. “I’m waiting for my mom.”

“I talk to myself sometimes too,” he said. “Usually when I’m doing math assignments.” He grinned slightly at the admission.

 _“Oh, math!”_ Casey rolled her hazel eyes dramatically. “I hate math!”

“My name’s Brady, Brady Long.” He approached her and stuck out his hand.

“I’m Casey,” she smiled, reaching out with her own hand. “Casey Belden. It’s short for Cassandra, but only my mom calls me that when she’s annoyed with me. Well, sometimes Regan does when I don’t work hard enough at cleaning the tack after my riding lessons,” she confided. “Does he give you riding lessons too?”

“Riding lessons? No-o-o…” he shook his head slightly, his brown eyes puzzled. “Who’s Regan?”

“Regan used to be my Grandpa Wheeler’s head groom, but now he owns the stables with Grandpa. They raise horses, and he gives the riding lessons here at the school sometimes. Usually it’s one of his grooms, but sometimes Regan wants to see how everyone is progressing, so he comes over himself. I don’t take my lessons here at the school, though. Mom takes me to Manor House Stables and usually has a visit with Maddie. Maddie’s my grandmother, but she hates being called Grandma, so Petey and I call her Maddie. Petey’s my younger brother, but he doesn’t go to school here either…” she trailed off as his eyes glazed over and a bemused grin curved his mouth. “I’m chattering, aren’t I?” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” He took off his baseball cap, freeing a mop of unruly sandy curls. He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Just go slow,” he suggested. “I’m new here, so I don’t know much about anything. I only arrived about three weeks ago.”

“Okay, I’ll start over again.” Casey noted the flicker of sadness in his brown eyes at the admission and realised suddenly that if he was a student at Ten Acres, chances were, that before three weeks ago, his life might not have been the greatest. Most of Uncle Jim’s boys came from situations that were less than ideal. As it always did, the thought made her sad.

“See, it’s like this. Jim Frayne, the headmaster? Well, he’s my uncle. My mom’s brother, adopted brother. That’s why his name is Frayne and my mom’s is Wheeler.” She hoisted herself up to sit on the hood of the car and gestured to the area next to her. “You’d better sit too, this could be long,” she grinned.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, you tell Trixie that I expect to see her over at the Inn at some point tomorrow morning. Not too early, though.” Honey’s hazel eyes twinkled teasingly. “I expect she’ll be tired after her long drive.”

“I expect so.” Jim grinned. He held the door open for his sister to exit the main building of Ten Acres Academy. “I’ll probably go over with her. Now that I have some temporary help in the form of Marge and the Belden brothers, I can actually take a couple of hours for myself.”

“Good. You need it.” Honey reached up to pat his cheek affectionately. “Jim, who’s that sitting on my car with my daughter?” she asked as they descended the steps into the late afternoon sunlight.

“That’s the new boy I was telling you about. The one Marge is tutoring. His name is Brady Long.” He shaded his eyes to look at the two youngsters. “He’s basically a good kid. A little mouthy and sullen at times, but it’s the age. And considering his background, it could be a lot worse. He’s having a bit of trouble settling in, but I think time and new friends will help.”

“Sounds like a familiar story, doesn’t it?” Honey slipped her sunglasses from her purse and settled them on her face.

“That’s who he reminds me of! Dan!” Jim snapped his fingers. “I should have seen it before. His background is rather similar to that of our police chief-to-be.” His expression turned thoughtful.

“Well, Casey certainly has his attention. Look at her go on,” Honey said with an indulgent smile. “That girl could talk the spots off a leopard.”

They had almost reached the car before the boy noticed their approach. He jammed his cap on his head and slid from his perch, his eyes hooded and wary. Honey’s soft heart instantly went out to him. _Poor kid! I can only imagine what has him so skittish._ She glanced up at her brother to gauge his reaction. Maybe the boy wasn’t supposed to be out on his own at this hour of the day.

“Brady, how are you this afternoon?” Jim asked pleasantly.

“Uncle Jim!” Casey jumped down from the hood of the car and threw her arms around him. “I was just telling Brady all about Regan and riding lessons and stuff. Can you believe it? He’s never even been near a horse! I’ll bet Regan has him riding like a pro in no time!” She fairly bounced with excitement and enthusiasm.

“I’ll bet he does,” Jim agreed, smoothing Casey’s tousled head of dark hair affectionately. “But Brady has some catching up to do in his schoolwork before we can think about riding lessons. That is, if he wants to learn to ride?” He smiled at the quiet, watchful boy. “It’s not required, you know.”

“You want to learn, don’t you, Brady? Then maybe we could ride together sometime?” Casey looked from her new friend to her mother. “Couldn’t we, Mom?”

“Maybe.” Honey smiled warmly at the boy, hoping to put him at his ease. “If it’s okay with your uncle, and Brady is interested.”

“Oh, I would be!” Brady nodded, his expression becoming animated for a moment. “If it’s allowed.” He glanced hesitantly at his headmaster.

“I think it can probably be arranged,” Jim agreed with a nod. “Once the math is up to snuff.”

“Uncle Jim, can Brady come with us to the Inn tomorrow? I was telling him all about it, and it would be so neat to be able to show him around.” Casey looked up at him, her face a picture of obvious entreaty. “Mom and I can pick him up on our way by in the morning. I’m going anyway.” She smiled sweetly. “Puh-leese?”

“How can I resist it when you plead just like your Auntie Trix?” Jim chuckled. “That is, if your mom agrees. Tomorrow is a free day for all the students anyway.” His green eyes met Honey’s hazel gaze over the girl’s head.

“I think it will be all right.” Honey said. “As long as the two of you don’t get underfoot. There’s still a lot of work going on over there,” she warned. If she had read Jim’s expression correctly, he thought this would be good for the youngster.

“Yay!” Casey shouted happily.

“Thank you, sir. Ma’am.” Brady smiled shyly at the two adults before Casey dragged him off to the other side of the car to plan their day.

“I’ll be by for him around nine,” Honey chuckled. “It looks like the two of them are on the road to becoming firm friends.”

“It’s good for him,” Jim agreed. “He needs friends. Sometimes that can make all the difference.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Oh, _bother!”_ The rhythmic thumping noise could only mean one thing. Muttering under her breath, Trixie steered the car to the side of Glen Road and carefully braked to a stop. “A mile from home and I get a flat tire. Normal people have flat tires miles from nowhere, but not me. No, I have to get one on my front doorstep.” She turned the key and sat for a moment before finally giving into a fit of giggles.

“Beatrix, you are so ridiculous sometimes,” she scolded herself. “Most normal people would be thrilled to get their flat tires so close to home.” Forestalling the threat of returning giggles, she exited the car to inspect the damage. The tire was definitely flat. There was nothing to do, but change it.

“Oh, _double bother!”_ She glared at the inside of the trunk. The trunk that was filled to overflowing with most of her worldly goods. And the jack was underneath all of it! It had taken her forever to pack the darned thing, and now she was going to have to take it all out again. A seldom-used expletive exploded from her lips.

As she stood, silently cursing out the automotive designer that had decided that under the floor of the trunk was the best place to store the jack, a second car pulled up behind her, and she was instantly alert. Placing a pleasantly rueful smile on her lips, she clenched her car keys in her fist and watched warily as the driver exited his vehicle. This may have been the outskirts of Sleepyside, but this also was a deserted stretch of Glen Road.

Tallish and slim, with a genial look on his bearded face, the man seemed to be in his late middle years and apparently harmless. But Trixie was taking no chances. Appearances could be deceiving. It had taken many years for her to learn caution, and to be honest, she wasn’t sure she had it down pat yet, but this time, she remembered. As the man came closer, she noted the blue of his eyes and the waviness of his still-thick, mostly grey hair. There was something familiar…

“Uncle Mart?” she exclaimed in disbelief. “Is it really…? Uncle Mart!” Her jaw dropped in astonishment. It had been what? Over fifteen years, that was certain.

“Trixie? My word, you look just like your mother!” His grin widened and he opened his arms to gather to him in a ferocious bear hug.

“What…?” Trixie took a step back to look up at his face. “ I can’t believe it… it really is you!” There was no mistaking those blue eyes or the grin, even after all the years that had passed. She stepped back into the hug to return it with equal fervour. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

“I decided it was time to come home,” he answered simply. “Finally.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Moms, I’m moving into Ten Acres tomorrow, not heading halfway across the country!” Bobby Belden looked down at his mother from his full height of six-foot-two and smiled fondly.

“But Bobby, you’re going to need towels and bed linens… just so many things that I’m certain you haven’t thought of!” Helen frowned at her youngest child and wondered exactly when he had turned into a man. A man who suddenly acquired twenty new responsibilities, and actually seemed to be looking forward to it.

“And if I’m missing something, I can just run down the hill to come and get it. Or just maybe, Jim may have already thought of it?” he teased. “Moms, really, stop fussing.” He bent down and hugged her. “I love you, but stop fussing over me. I’ll be fine.”

“I just can’t seem to grasp the idea of my baby taking care of children who aren’t that much younger than he is,” she defended herself.

“Moms, the children under my care are aged from six to twelve. I’m twenty-four. And a college graduate with a Master’s degree.” Bobby rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“No, you’re not. You’re still ten in my mind. And besides, you’re my youngest. Who else am I supposed to fuss over?”

“Mother!” He collapsed his long, lanky frame into a kitchen chair and glared at her. “I’ll be so glad when Trixie gets home and you can start fussing over her and her wedding.” He ran his hands through his unruly mop of blond curls. “Why’d the rest of them have to grow up so fast and leave me behind?” His lips twitched, and Helen knew he was trying to quell a grin.

“Well, until Trixie gets here, you can do your filial duty and let me ‘fuss’ … as you say … over you.” She placed her hands on her hips and did her best to look stern.

“There’ll be home-baked cookies in it for you,” she informed him after a long moment of silence.

“Moms, you’re too much.” The grin finally escaped and spread over his freckled face. “All right, fuss away.” He waved his hands in the air, capitulating. “But that had better be a double batch of cookies.”

Helen hummed happily as she moved about her kitchen preparing the ingredients for her son’s favorite cookies. She knew she would still worry about Bobby and his new job - she was his mother, after all – but deep inside, she knew he’d do just fine. He loved working with kids, and all the youngsters seemed to gravitate towards him, sensing that here was an adult they could trust, but still have a good time with. It was this mix of responsibility and enthusiasm that Jim had recognised in his soon-to-be brother-in-law when circumstances had forced him to look for help for his suddenly beleaguered school. The job would be good for Bobby as well, serving as practical experience on the road to becoming a licensed children’s therapist. Her youngest had certainly come a long way from the mischievous, naughty, spoiled youngster he had been when Jim had first met him.

“Moms, you’ll send care packages up the hill regularly, right?” The newest teacher at Ten Acres Academy scooped up a trio of hot cookies from the cookie sheet and juggled them from hand to hand, oddly surprised that they were still hot.

“If I’m not too busy fussing over your sister,” Helen said primly. Her blue eyes twinkled as she watched him try to decide between eating the cookies and blowing on his burnt fingers. Inevitably, the eating won out. She chuckled as she moved to place the sheet on the counter. Some things never changed.

“Speaking of whom…” Bobby mumbled around a mouthful of cookie and gestured towards the window. “She’s here.”

“Trixie!” With a wide smile, Helen tossed her oven mitts on top of the cookies and hurried towards the back door. The greeting on her lips died as she pushed open the screen door. Her daughter had not arrived alone.

“Moms, can you believe who I picked up along the road?” Trixie beamed. At her side stood the last person Helen would have expected to be standing in the Crabapple Farm driveway.

“Martin?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She raised a slender hand to her throat and tried again. “Martin!” She stepped forward on the porch, her heart pounding wildly. After so many years without a word from him, what was he doing here? Out of the blue? With no warning? After so long? Thoughts clashed in her whirling mind. What did he want? What was wrong? Where had he come from?

“Oh, Martin!” Tears began to stream from her blue eyes at the sight of the wide smile on her once-beloved big brother’s face.

“Helen, I’ve come home.” He strode up the stairs and enfolded her in a tight embrace. “At last.”

  



End file.
